


Tim & Damian, the Adventures of

by Ladelle



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6516901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladelle/pseuds/Ladelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for drabbles featuring Tim and Damian, and their sad, sad attempts at brotherhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tim & Damian, the Adventures of

“What do you want?” Tim didn’t glance up from his computer, even though he knew there was someone pristinely poised in his doorway. The little sneak had been trying to get Tim’s attention for the past ten minutes—he’d coughed, tapped his foot, and cleared his throat—but somehow couldn’t bring himself to say Tim’s name.

“An omelet, Drake. Make one for me.”

Now Tim knew that ever since Dick had left, the manor had been ten types of awry, and as he swiveled around in his chair and cocked and eyebrow, he realized just how unbalanced the world had become.

“You’re asking me to make you breakfast?”

“Psh,” Damian folded his arms across his chest, puckered his lower lip, and looked at the ceiling like it had done him some unfathomable wrong. “It’s an omelet, Drake, hardly a meal.”

Tim wondered if this was the beginning of some weird assassin bonding ritual, what with him being the only relatable member of the household left. That, or Damian had been banned from the kitchen again.

“Why can’t you make it yourself?” Tim asked, truly curious. Damian’s eyes slipped over to meet his own, but he remained like a statue, his chest puffed out like he was defending some sort of lost honor.

He mumbled something.

Tim, being a masterful detective, sighed. “You went after the cookies again, didn’t you?”

Red stole Damian’s cheeks and his lips pursed tightly together, and Tim couldn’t help but remember the first time Alfred had hidden the cookies from Damian’s reach, perching them perfectly in sight on top of the fridge. Damian and clambered his way up the island and was found dangling by a pot hook in the morning, arm outstretched desperately towards the jar.

The funniest part was that Batman walked into the kitchen, poured a cup of frothing coffee, glanced up at Damian, over to the cookies, and then left the room without a word.

“Stop thinking about it,” Damian warned.

“I was doing no such thing.” Tim tried to contain the goofy smile that had spread across his cheeks. Damian glared at him.

“So,” Tim stood up with a sigh. “An omelet?”

“An omelet.”

“And a cookie?”

“Shut it, Drake.” Damian led the way and Tim grinned wildly behind him, especially when, after about ten steps, Damian muttered, “And a cookie.”

Tim decided the bonding ritual was working.


End file.
